My twisted ass of a roommate moved out today. And hear this about the guy (we'll call him Al): Al would eat frozen burritos off the yellow pages, and I don't mean the book cover-- I'm talking about the actual pages. He claimed that the benefit was a clean plate everyday. I thought I'd be able to bask in his absence, but the bastard's still here in spirit, materializing grease stains over every phone number I need to look up.

In his greasy wake, I flushed out the house with a bottle of Clorox. As I scrubbed to the sounds of the Liquor Giants' Every Other Day At A Time, I began to liken the bleach to the music. See, both linger; the bleach on the hands, and the music on the feet. And perversely, I've fallen in love with the two. If bleach was potable and the Giants' music were edible, I'd consume them together at mealtime. And I'd leave the poor phone book out of it.

Every Other Day At A Time provides a degree of sloshy liquor, one that tells of the convoluted themes of High School ("Riverdale High"), psychotic girls ("16"), insomnia ("Meaningless"), and fluffy goofiness ("It's Raining Butterflies") and, like all previous Liquor Giants releases, offers Ward Dotson's endearing, J Mascis- esque vocals.

As the only original member of the band, this is clearly Dotson's gig. His sound falls loosely between the Beach Boys, Crowded House, and the Beatles chugging chord sequenced, jangly guitar solos. Really, it's not an original sound, but these guys know that and it doesn't seem to bother them. With itchy eyes and a penchant for just kickin' it, they came to have fun. And ain't nothin' wrong with that.

-Nathan Bang